


Timaios

by Nichtigkeit_4



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternative Scenes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nichtigkeit_4/pseuds/Nichtigkeit_4
Summary: The question "What if?" was one that Dean Winchester had asked himself many times before. What if he had never broken the first seal? What if John hadn't raised them to be hunters back then? If he had just let the apocalypse happen back then? If he had said "yes" to Michael? But no one could give him answers to these questions. Until a certain angel appeared and suddenly the possibility opened up to find out what had really gone wrong in his life. // Destiel
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 1





	1. What if .. ?

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> Welcome to the "What if" series. The goal of this series is to find out how the history of the Winchester would have gone if small, almost seems unimportant things would have been different. With an appropriate touch of Destiel, of course ;)
> 
> So what if Dean had never broken the first seal? Or, if the Winchesters had never driven an Impala? What if Sam was the older of the two brothers? Or maybe Dean was the one with the demon blood? These and other alternatives await you.
> 
> Of course you are also welcome to send me your own suggestions. Something you would have liked to see differently in the series or have always wondered if the two really made the right decision back then.
> 
> The story itself takes place shortly before the end of the series, but ignores current events. Accordingly, it is possible to choose scenes from 15 seasons of Supernatural.
> 
> I wish you a lot of fun and am curious where the journey will take us.  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> All my stories have been translated from German to English. Since English is not my native language, translation errors may occur. But I hope that they are not too serious. If you notice any, feel free to tell me.
> 
> Have fun!

The ticking of the clock echoed almost unbearably in Dean's ears. It was almost shrill and much too slow for his sense of time. It made him tense his muscles to the breaking point the more it ticked. But otherwise, silence reigned in his room. No one but him was here. Nothing but that clock made a sound. And it made him go crazy in the darkness of this room. Because even his thoughts stood still. It was an unusual feeling, because normally they raced like mad through his mind and left him no quiet minute. But today was a silent day. They had no case and for the first time in their lives they had no problem to deal with. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was quiet. They just had their own little perfect world. And yet Dean lay restless in his bed, staring at the ceiling, which he couldn't see in this darkness, and not managing to close even one eye. In that silence, he wondered why it couldn't always be this way. Why was it important that they rushed from one problem to another, all their lives. Of course, there was Chuck, who had watched their every move and abused it in his favor, but was that really all? Was that why all this had happened to them? Hadn't there been a moment when they could have prevented it? Hadn't there been one tiny decision that might have turned the whole tide? A tiny little thing. Something they could have done differently, or even their own father? Something like a butterfly effect. Maybe if he had eaten lunch a little differently on one of the many days past, or traveled a different road, or slept longer, what would have happened? Well, he had played this "what if" game many times before. But it was just that no one could say what would happen. None of them could see into the future. No one knew what the consequences of their decisions would be. And that nagged at Dean. Because he often had the feeling that he was to blame for what had happened. Sam certainly did too. After all, they had already brought about one or the other catastrophe themselves, which they had taken care of. Like the apocalypse, for example. This damned apocalypse. It was the reason why the stone started rolling at all. Only because of that their lives, that of his parents and ancestors were steered in exactly this direction. But was there a possibility to prevent all this, if it was already planned from so long hand? If heaven and hell did everything possible for the Winchester family to take exactly this path?

A soft knock jolted Dean out of his thoughts. He didn't even know what time it was. Was it the middle of the night or early morning? Dean wanted to look at the clock, but the darkness didn't give him the chance. So he reached for the switch of his bedside lamp and turned on the light. It blinded him briefly until his eyes adjusted and he heard a repeated knock on the door. - "Yes?" he called out in a slightly scratchy voice after lying silently on his bed for several hours. Dean cleared his throat and just then the door opened, just a small crack and then Castiel was half standing in the room, looking at Dean waitingly. - "I hope I didn't wake you," he spoke in his usual deep and emotionless voice before entering the room fully and closing the door behind him. - "No, it's all good. What's up?" asked Dean, getting up from his bed and straightening his flannel shirt. His eyes wandered to the wall clock, which told him it was close to twelve. Since he didn't have a window in his room, Dean guessed twelve at night. He could be wrong, though. - "I just wanted to check on you," was all Castiel had to say. And that answer alone made Dean raise his eyebrow skeptically. He couldn't quite believe that was all it was supposed to be. Castiel never just came by to check on him. Especially not at this hour of the night. - "So now the truth?" asked Dean, knowing full well that Castiel was hiding something from him. He could literally smell something on the angel's mind that he wanted to talk about. And he had already come to terms with the fact that there were things that had to be pulled out of Castiel's nose until he started talking on his own. No matter how much it bothered him. And Dean was right. Uncomfortably, Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, letting his gaze roam the room without fixing on an exact spot. The main thing was not to make eye contact with Dean. What was even stranger, because otherwise he had no shame to look him very long and very forcefully in the eyes.

"I had such a strange feeling," Castiel began to speak. Which still gave Dean no clue as to what his problem really was. And he also hoped that it wasn't another one of those awkward conversations where Dean had to explain to him what it was exactly that he was feeling. But actually Castiel had been on Earth long enough now to know pretty much every sensation, emotional and physical. It had been a very long time since Dean had last explained to him something that was actually so obvious. At least, to a human being. - "So what?", Dean tried more urgently now that Castiel had stopped talking again. - "I sensed you weren't well. How restless you are. So I wanted to check on you" - Dean didn't know how to answer. He had expected everything, but not this. How had Castiel been able to sense what was going on inside him? Was he doing something on purpose? - "Have you been watching me?" asked Dean more annoyed. Because really, they were long past that point where Castiel would watch him sleep or show up unannounced in his bathroom. Cue personal space. - "No. It was just-" - Castiel struggled for words. - "It was so present. All over the bunker. And I'm very sensitive to any feelings you pour out" - To Dean, that sounded more than wrong, the way Castiel said it. Almost as if he was always, at all times, aware of how Dean was feeling. In fact, all the time . And that made him uncomfortable. - "I sense discomfort. That's why I didn't want to tell you" - Yes, wonderful. That was all Dean needed. Castiel the emotion detector. - "Do you want to talk about it?", Castiel really dared to ask. Normally he knew Dean did everything but talk. But this time it was so present that he couldn't help but ask about it. These feelings had practically flooded Castiel and filled him up completely. And it was depressing. If that was really what Dean was feeling right now, he wanted to know why. What was weighing so heavily on him that this feeling was taking over the entire bunker? Whatever it was, Castiel was sure Dean would refuse to talk to him about it. He already spoke very little with his brother about such things, but even less with Castiel. He rarely confided in him, which of course gave the angel pause for thought. After all, he had always thought that they were like family to each other. Or even something that was more intimate than family. At any rate, Castiel felt that way. Maybe it was just Castiel. And yet, against his own expectations, Dean nodded. He didn't know why, but it almost urged him to talk to Castiel about it. Quite untypical for Dean, he was desperate to get rid of what was weighing on his heart. He wanted answers, even if he knew that Castiel could not give them to him either.

But he hoped that at least he would feel better afterwards. So he began to talk. The words poured out of him like a waterfall. All his concerns, his decisions, his hopes and doubts. Everything that had taken him in the last hours. What he wished for and what he believed in. And Castiel listened. He caught his every word, almost as if they would otherwise fall over a cliff and be forgotten there. He was doing everything he could to give Dean the support he needed right now, whether he admitted it or not. - "So what am I supposed to do now?" echoed Dean's words in that small room as he looked at him with a furrowed brow, almost a look of despair. - "I certainly haven't always made the right decisions, no matter how many times I've told myself I have. But what if there was that decision of all decisions? That one moment that would have saved us all this? What if all of this-" Dean stopped speaking haltingly. He stood with his arms outstretched in front of Castiel and lowered them a moment later. - "What if this is all my fault?" he spoke it after all, not taking his eyes from Castiel's. Almost as if he were searching for an answer to that question in that deep blue. But there was nothing. Nothing but dark shimmering fragments staring back. And then suddenly the pair of blue eyes blinked. It was like a wake-up call and Dean awoke from his rigidity. He took two steps back and turned his gaze away. - "I know you don't have an answer for that either" - Defeated, Dean propped himself against the dresser, searching for support. He was almost ashamed of having told Castiel all this. Now he had shown weakness and then also one of his greatest. That he was not always sure of himself. That he pretended to be more sure than he actually was. That he also had doubts about himself. About his decisions and his abilities. Even a Dean Winchester was not perfect.

"What do you think could have prevented all this?" - Dean almost thought he wouldn't get an answer. But there it was, and he didn't know what to do with it. - "What do you mean?" - "What's the decision you regret the most? A decision you think could have changed everything" - Dean stared at him. Looked into his face and saw pure determination in his face. Even if he didn't know why exactly. But something Castiel had just decided for himself. Something important. And for that, he needed this information. A piece of information Dean didn't even have to think about. Because it was clear what for him was his sometimes biggest mistake. For years he blamed himself for it and it tormented him. More than he admitted. And even if he acted as if he had long forgotten it all, it still gnawed at him. And it would for the rest of his life, that much was certain. - "What if-" - So what else did he have to lose? He had already opened up to Castiel. He had practically thrown his innermost being at his feet. Did it make any difference now to throw the last of it after him? Dean decided it was too late. So he gave the last bit into Castiel's hands as well. - "What if I had never broken the first seal?" - "Are you sure you want to know?" - Dean hadn't expected a counter question, but he nodded. Of course he wanted to know. It meant everything to him to finally find his peace. - "Then I'll show you"


	2. The first seal

There was still dead silence in the room. The time in which neither of them said anything seemed like hours to Dean. But the hand on the clock told him that it could have been seconds at most. And yet the words still didn't really get through to him. - "What do you mean?" he asked, then, when he finally managed to make his voice sound firm enough to actually squeeze something other than croaks out of his vocal chords. - "The way I say it," wasn't exactly the answer Dean was hoping for. And after Dean was silent again for several seconds, Castiel seemed to realize, too, that he probably had to explain his intention more precisely, that his counterpart understood it, too. - "As you must know, it is possible for me as an angel to see every conceivable timeline. You have already experienced it on your own body, whenever Zachariah, Lucifer or Chuck tried to manipulate you. Of course, we angels are not clairvoyants either, that's why the alternative I show you is never one hundred percent. There are simply too many eventualities. Even if it is easier to see the alternative end of a past event than that of a coming one. Especially with the angelic power that I still have left. But I can show you in which direction your decision would have led" - Could that really be possible? Was this the answer to Dean's silent prayers all this time? Now suddenly this angel stood in front of him and was able to take all this burden off his shoulders, just with a snap of his fingers. It was incredible and made Dean remember again that no matter how often he sometimes forgot it, Castiel was still a supernatural being. That he possessed powers that were beyond his imagination. This was one of them. But could he handle the truth? If Castiel now showed him that he had made the wrong choice? That he had only made things worse with his stubbornness and ego? Could he live with that? Because even if they swept up their own pile of broken pieces again and again, they had brought nevertheless very much suffering over mankind. So many people who had died because of them, who had suffered. Could he really cope with that? The answer was no. But he couldn't let it go either. Maybe this was another one of his bad decisions. But he was tired of this whole "what if" game. He was tired of lying awake in his bed all these nights blaming himself. And who knew, maybe he had made the right decisions though. Maybe there had never been any other option than the one he had chosen. And by God, he wished it so much. So he had no choice but to jump over his shadow and let Castiel show him what he had to offer.

That's why Dean nodded now, almost to encourage himself as well. - "Show me" - Dean stared firmly into Castiel's deep blue eyes. And Castiel returned the look. Searched for something like doubt or fear. Something that made him take back his offer. But there was nothing. Only pure determination flashed in the green of those eyes and that now made Castiel nod as well. - "There are a few things I need to tell you about first. For one, it is not possible for me to bring you into the action. My strength is no longer strong enough for that. That means you will watch the moments I show you as an outsider. And don't worry, I will be with you. Besides, the duration of these moments will not be very long. Only as long as I can maintain them. But you should be able to stay there for a few minutes. Do you understand?" - Seriously, Dean nodded, barely patient enough to wait until it finally started. As he stood there, nervously kneading his hands, he took another breath as he saw Castiel raise his hand to his forehead. - "I'll try to show you everything you need to know. Unfortunately, that's all I can do for you" - And without waiting for an answer, Castiel already put two fingers to Dean's forehead, which made him close his eyes reflexively. And while Castiel's angelic power flowed through him, for no longer than a millisecond, it filled him with an incredible warmth. And Dean tried to hold on to that feeling that gave him so much security. But as quickly as it had come, it was already over, causing him to blink and open his eyes. Then he blinked again. And again. Until Dean finally understood that he was really here. He was at Bobby's house. In this old, creaky house in the middle of a junkyard. And yet the only home he'd ever known. Even though it looked a lot more beat up than in his memories, everything was still like it used to be. Bobby's desk with a wonderful view into the kitchen. All the musty and yellowed books. The creaking floorboards beneath his feet. It was all there. And it filled him with wistfulness and so much nostalgia that he had to close his eyes for a moment until he felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. It could only be Castiel standing behind him. Completely calm and wordless, while he gave him the time to get used to everything here. But before that could happen, a loud scream rang out, echoing through all the rooms. It clearly belonged to a woman and also where it came from Dean could make out directly. Because such a shrill scream, could only come from the bunker, which Bobby had once built himself in his basement. So Dean made himself with hurried steps there on the way until he finally arrived at the steely door, which blocked him the further way. Another scream. Pain-filled and so full of agony, as Dean knew it otherwise only from hell.

"You can go through," Castiel's voice sounded calmly and unexpectedly behind him. Again and again, he forgot that the angel was still with him, watching his every step. For a long time, he had learned to blank this out, it had become his everyday life. But right now, he wanted to be more than aware of his presence. He wanted Castiel to be with him. Because he needed him. Because he needed to be strengthened by him, with his presence and his words. With his looks alone. So he risked a glance in his direction. Looked into that expressionless face, which examined him closely. And Dean realized again that Castiel would not just disappear. Ever. He wouldn't just walk away and leave him alone with what he was about to face. No matter how many times he told him to go away, that he didn't want to see him anymore. In the end, they always found each other again. Almost as if it was fate that they met each other. That they gave each other the support they couldn't find anywhere else. Even though Dean scoffed at himself every time his thoughts drifted in that direction. Of course it was fate. After all, Chuck had made it clear often enough that he held the Winchesters' lives in his hands, that he directed and controlled them. What was real in his life now? - "We are" - Echoed deep in his thoughts, Castiel's voice as firm and at the same time as fragile as a glass wind chime hanging only by a thread. And maybe it was. Maybe Castiel and he were the only thing that was truly real. With everything they had been through and experienced together. With all their differences and debates. With everything they were to each other. And quite possibly, Dean liked that thought. Knowing that there would be nothing that could change that.

But on the other hand, this was no more than a fantasy, which Dean immediately tried to shake off. He had to concentrate on the important things here. And that was to find out what was behind this heavy iron door. So Dean reached out for the handle, only to slide right through it. So this is what Castiel meant when he said he could just go through. He meant it literally. Which now also made sense to Dean. After all, he was not a part of this world. He didn't belong here and his ego that did was certainly out here somewhere. It would have been strange if doors just opened and closed as if by magic. Especially in a hunter's household. So he settled for the way things were and hesitantly began to move the rest of his body through the door until he actually reached the other side unharmed. Blinking, he opened his eyelids, letting his gaze roam the room. It looked musty, unkempt, and ages since it had been cleaned. Not that he'd always been the neatest, after all, they'd been happy to sleep in rancid motels and eat breakfast in back alley diners for the last few decades.But even for him, this was too much. Dust littered everywhere in a thick layer. A bunch of yellowed books that surely belonged in the living room lay scattered in the corners along with empty cans of cheap microwave food in which things moved that surely had not lived some time ago. But before Dean could think about why it had come this far, his eyes fell on this woman - if you could call the pale, exhausted and bloodied figure sitting there at all - who sat tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Right in a demon trap. He looked at her more closely. Her dark long hair fell messily into her face, while she let out a pained scream again and again, her hands clenched into fists on the back of the chair, before this scream ended in a pitiful whimper. Dean's gaze continued to wander around the room, searching eyes trying to make out someone. Anyone at all. And indeed he did. In the farthest and darkest corner of this bunker sat a man. Almost neglected, long and shaggy hair, unshaved and in dirty, bloodstained clothes. It almost seemed as if he was asleep. Which made Dean wonder how anyone could even sleep with such a clamor going on. Quickly, however, he had to realize that he was mistaken. This man was not asleep, instead he seemed to be consciously paying attention to the loudness of this woman. Almost as if he enjoyed hearing her scream. 

"It's time," he suddenly heard the rough and brittle voice of this man, who now sat up and walked with slow steps towards the woman. He was completely emaciated, which only brought out his incredible height. He came closer and closer, not seeing Dean and Castiel, of course. Until finally he stopped directly in front of Dean, who was now looking into tired and dull brown eyes. - "Sammy?" - Dean couldn't believe it. That figure there in front of him was really supposed to be his brother? How could that be? Where was Bobby? Where was he himself? He would never have let it come to this. Never would he have allowed his little brother to get so messed up. So what had happened? - "And I thought you would forget," the woman laughed in a weak voice in response. Dean noticed that she used all her strength to make her words sound firm and rebellious. But there was nothing more than pain to be heard. And suddenly Sam grabbed at the woman's dark hair and tugged with far too much force to pull her head up. - "Raise your head when you talk to me," Sam admonished her with a growl, clenching his hand into a fist a little harder to inflict the most pain possible, then letting go. She laughed weakly again, then dropped her head to her neck. Her face was swollen, tinged with various colors, and blood ran down her temple. She had been through quite a bit here, and judging by her wounds, she hadn't just been here for a few days. But no matter how badly she was battered, Dean would recognize this face in any condition.

"You should keep your mouth shut and not mock me," Sam growled again, walking toward a cupboard and pulling out a plastic bag with an unknown substance and a knife. - "And if I don't?" she taunted, a smirk on her chapped lips. - "Are you gonna hurt me, Sammy?" - Before Dean could understand what was happening, Sam had run up to her and punched her in the middle of her face with a clenched fist. Blood pooled in her mouth, her nose also broken - again - and her eyes flew back and forth uncoordinated for a few seconds until she got her bearings back. But no sound had left her lips. Almost as if it hadn't hurt her. Which it probably hadn't. After all, what was a slap in the face, compared to what was still waiting for her? - "Don't push it, Ruby," Sam threatened, but all he got was a bloody grin before Ruby spat everything she had in his direction. Right onto his shirt, which now had a fresh bright trickle running down alongside the already dried blood. Furious at this, Sam grabbed at her throat. Brought the chair tilting without it falling backwards away. He squeezed, causing Ruby to make a gasping sound until she gradually turned blue. Sam made no move to let go, instead squeezing even harder until Dean thought her neck was bound to snap at any moment. But Ruby had nothing more than a condescending smile for it. She didn't even try to get out of his grip. She wasn't going to die from it anyway. Nothing could kill a demon. Except a demon knife. And that was the one Sam held in his other hand, had brought it from the closet and was now pressing it to her throat beneath his hand. - "You want to test me?" - A gasp that should have been a deep laugh came out of her. She wasn't afraid of Sam. And even more so, she wasn't afraid of dying. Sam seemed to notice that too and let go of her. Turning his back on her, he went to work on the IV stand where an empty bag hung. He replaced it with a new one and attached the tube to it, which went straight into the crook of Ruby's arm. He twisted open the roller clamp and the transparent liquid began to drip through the lock connector and through the tube directly into her vein.

"What's going on?", Dean's voice was no more than a whisper. It was almost a fragile whimper as he looked at his brother with pain in his chest. Or what was left of him. Which was really no more than a shadow. A gaunt figure that looked like Sammy, the way he spoke and sounded. And yet, he hadn't been for a long time. Sam had been in that bunker for years, searching for something he believed only Ruby could give him. - "Do you really think this is going to work?" - Ruby laughed harshly. Her gaze piercingly found its way up through her mane to Sam, who was still standing next to her drip. - "That won't bring him back" - A deeper laugh this time. Almost a gleeful giggle. - "How many years have we been here?" - With the last strength she had, Ruby raised her head. Dropped it to the back of her neck and then looked straight into Sam's face from mischievous eyes. Mockingly, knowing full well that she had won. Whenever a day ended, whenever the sun set at any point, she had won. Because no matter what Sam did to her, the pain he felt was so much bigger and much more powerful. Because every day they spent here, he lost a piece of himself. - "You lost," she laughed right in his face. Holding all her pain together. Another punch followed, which she took as well as the last one. And without Sam saying a single word. Silently he listened, too tired to even make a sound. With the strength he had, he grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back painfully deep into her neck, sure that he was tearing out a whole clump of her hair in the process. - "What you're doing here is nothing compared to what awaits me should I betray even one of my people" - Sam moved closer. Closer to Ruby's face, regarded her. The bruised and bleeding skin, the unnatural color of her cheeks and right into the joyful glint of her brown eyes. - "Face it Sammy, you lost" - Ruby breathed heavily. Biting her lower lip, almost demanding, before looking dreamily into Sam's face. - "You're nothing. A pathetic guy trying to save his oh-so-great big brother. But you know what? He's rotting away. Every moment that passes, he rots like a stinking mutt in hell as Alastair cuts him apart slice by slice. Pulling his skin from his muscles and his muscles from his bones until there is nothing left of him. Day after day, he suffers pain that a normal person like you can't even imagine" - Ruby laughed harshly, full of joy. - "Until he breaks" - Her laughter ebbed, leaving a small snort. - "Until he's crying and screaming for it to stop" - The smile, as painful as it was through her wounds, grew bigger just thinking about what Dean must be experiencing right now in hell. Compared to that, this was a tea party. It filled her with such joy and excitement that she almost started laughing hysterically again. - "And then Sammy, then we won," she whispered softly. - "That's not going to happen" - Sam's voice sounded raspy and rough, with every word he spoke, so that Dean almost didn't recognize it anymore. - "I may have been weak," his grip tightened around her hair. - "Because I fell for your scam. But you betrayed me and used me. Worse, you poisoned my mind" - Now Sam smiled slightly, too. - "But this is Dean we're talking about.You're not getting him down" - With way too much force, Sam let her head swing forward and then let go of her.

He took long steps toward the workbench, which lay buried under trash and rusty tools. Searching for something, he rummaged through one of the drawers before immediately reaching for the hammer lying on a pile of books not far away. - "Give it up. Dean is lost" - Sam didn't react to the mocking words. Instead, he grabbed a jar with a transparent liquid in it, unscrewed the lid, and dropped the nails he had just retrieved from the drawer into the jar. - "Uhh, Sammy. Rusty nails bathed in holy water. I'm almost blushing with how much devotion you torture me" - A game. To Ruby, it was nothing but a game. And Sam knew that. Still, he didn't do her the favor of stopping. He reached into the jar and took out one of the nails. With slow steps, he approached her again, placing the nail on her forearm, near the IV needle that was steadily flooding salt water into her bloodstream, keeping Ruby in constant pain. - "I really like that part," she breathed mockingly. Knowing exactly what awaited her now, yet welcoming it. Because it was nothing but a game. Maybe that was also one of the reasons why he still held on to it at all. After all these years he was locked up here with Ruby, searching for answers. Looking for a way to free his brother from hell, he had almost forgotten what it was actually like. What it was like to live, to see daylight, or to eat properly. It had been so long already that he almost believed there was nothing left for him but this very life.

"Remember, I'm all you got left. So don't break me" - Provocatively these words sounded, which she breathed into the mane of her torturer. But the smile on her lips, almost lovely, almost in love, made Sam wait a brief moment. And yet that moment was so brief, it almost didn't exist. With one last look into her eyes, he slammed the hammer down on the nail, digging it into her flesh, burning her skin with holy water before the sound of the strike turned into a bloodcurdling scream. Loud and rending, it echoed in the bunker, growing louder with each far nail before her screams dulled. More and more distant, and before Dean knew it, the room he was standing in began to dissolve, further and further until there was nothing left but Sam raising the hammer for a final blow and a final agonized scream that Dean was sure would haunt him into his dreams. And suddenly it was silent. No sound was heard anymore and this sudden silence made Dean's ears ring, unpleasant and shrill.

"Dean!" his own name echoed in his ears far too loudly. Who had called him? - "Dean" - There it was again, much softer this time, in that familiar deep and smoky voice. "Cas" - He was in his room, he was back. He was with Cas. - "What was that?" - Uncomfortable, Castiel averted his gaze, not quite sure what to answer. - "That was the alternate end of your journey." - Castiel looked back at Dean's face, which was sweaty and relected disbelief in his mine. - "Not breaking the first seal will mean never being released from hell for you. There is no apocalypse and the world just keeps spinning. As if nothing had happened," Castiel explained calmly, hoping that Dean could follow him. Because after the look he made, he still didn't seem to be able to fully understand what had just happened. So many questions that came to his mind at once. Where was Bobby? How had it come so far at all? How much time had passed? How long had hell imprisoned him and for how much longer was his alternate self banished to spend eternity there? Almost as if Castiel could read his mind - which he probably did, one way or another - he answered. - "Bobby couldn't stand what was happening to Sam any more than you could. And at some point, his time had come. After Bobby's death, which was surprisingly peaceful, it got worse. Sam threw himself deeper than ever into the madness of saving you" - Castiel cleared his throat, as if he needed to clear up the tone of his voice. Still, he continued to speak in an almost deeper voice. - "In total, you- spent your alternative self 1500 years in hell up to this point. Without ever being saved"- "But- Where were you?" - Castiel had hoped not to hear this question. Because even if that alternative had never become a reality, he could see what it triggered in Dean. What the thought of centuries in hell made him do. And also the thought of Castiel never coming to save him. - "I was in heaven" - Castiel had the urge to turn his back on Dean. He didn't know if he could bear to continue looking into that pain-filled face. - "I waited for further instructions like the obedient soldier I was and didn't set foot on Earth for the next hundred years" - But Castiel couldn't help himself. He had to know what was going on inside Dean, what was reflected in his eyes. And all he could discern was disappointment. Disappointment of what Sam had become, that he himself was doomed to burn in hell, and that Cas never came. Never saved him.

"I'm sorry" - "Don't, Cas" - Turning away from Castiel, Dean dropped onto the bed. He buried his face in his hands, not sure whether to cry or laugh. Because if what he had seen was the truth, then there could only be one conclusion for him. - "My decision was right, wasn't it?" - It sounded almost breathless as Dean spoke. Breathless and brittle. - "If that was the alternative, then I did it right, didn't I?" - Dean removed his hands from his face and looked up at Castiel. Through his glazed eyes with an expression full of pain. And yet, had it been the right thing to do? Maybe. Breaking the seal had saved Sam and Dean. It had led Castiel to them. But was it worth the sacrifice? All the lives sacrificed in the wake of the apocalypse. All the hunters and civilians who died for the good of the brothers. All the angels. The heaven that now no longer existed. Hell that was no more the same than before. Claire, who only because of Castiel had to grow up without her father into a life as a hunter. And Jimmy, whose life he had stolen. Was it worth it? Maybe. Because what about all the people they had saved? All those creatures they had hunted and killed, allowing hundreds of people to live? A life that Castiel could also live, because two simple men showed him how to. Yes, maybe it was worth it. But maybe it was just selfish of Cas to wish that it was. That it was the right thing to do, because that was the only way his path had led him to Dean. So yeah, maybe.

"It was the right thing, Dean" - Because the relief on Dean's face was worth it.


End file.
